


The Saovine Fairy Tale

by CarmillaCarmine



Series: Ballads of a Witcher and a Bard [8]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, E rating for future chapters, Fluff, Friendship, Halloween, Happy Ending, M/M, Necromancy, Saovine, just the opposite, no one dies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:14:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26680468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarmillaCarmine/pseuds/CarmillaCarmine
Summary: It’s been years since Jaskier died. Geralt continued his life as always, on the surface at least. He seemed a bit sadder, and spoke less often than before. One could swear they hadn’t seen a smile on his face for ages. And for years, no one had seen him during the celebrations of Saovine. This is the story of the why and the how.This fic was written to celebrate Halloween by joining:Sordid Saovine - The Witcher Halloween EventCheck it out and consider joining with fic, or any form of art!
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Ballads of a Witcher and a Bard [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1710100
Comments: 12
Kudos: 65
Collections: Sordid Saovine - The Witcher Halloween Event





	The Saovine Fairy Tale

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: In my fics I take the Witcher characters from the show, the books and the games, and put them in a blender (picking the characteristics I like and using those). So Geralt is more talkative and more emotionally open, so is Yennefer in this one. Jaskier is a fluffy ball of a bi-disaster.
> 
> This fic can be read as a standalone, but it's a rough continuation of ["Beyond the Fog"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24093367)  
> where Geralt visits Jaskier in his retirement. (It needs one more MCD part, but I can't make myself post it)
> 
> Saovine, is roughly equivalent of our Halloween. 
> 
> It was well known that the Universe, as well as life, revolves in a circle. On the rim of this circle, in pairs exactly opposite each other are eight magic points, which give a full rotation, the annual cycle. These points, lying along the rim of the circle in pairs opposite each other, are: Imbaelk that is, Germination, Lammas that is, Maturity, Belleteyn, that is Blossoming, Saovine that is, Withering. (...) and so the elven calendar year is divided.  
> These dates differ from others by magic.  
> \- Andrzej Sapkowski, The Tower of the Swallow

It was a rainy, chilly October night. The wind howled outside so fiercely, no animals could be heard roaming outside the castle. Only the snapping of broken branches, the banging of shutters, and the wails of the wind as it broke through the cracks in walls was what signalled that many a child wouldn’t be able to sleep that night. 

She was sitting at her dressing table, in the warmth of her bedroom, brushing her long, black hair after a full day of replenishing her potions. Years ago, she had decided to move back to her home city to help rebuild it after the Invasion of Dol Angra, during which Vengerberg had been ransacked, and its inhabitants slaughtered by Nilfgaardians and Squirrels. When the war ended, the city began to slowly restore its former greatness, striving to regain its popularity as a long-distance trade center that used to be famous for its well-developed industry and educational institutions. Yennefer thought it needed just a little bit more, and she had been determined to go back to the city that spat her out. And this time she could return with her head held high, as a powerful sorceress. 

She got into the habit of helping people, and not only the rich and powerful like she used to. Nowadays, she helped the families that came to her, and the farmers that brought her potatoes in exchange for medicine.  Her shelves were full of hand-made pottery and embroidery she’d received in thanks for help given to the girls who needed an ear and a piece of advice of a feminine variety because they’d lost their mother and had no one else to turn to. 

She was happy here, alone but not lonely. 

Ciri visited her every summer and sometimes even for a few weeks before winter. The life of a travelling witcher was not an easy one, but Ciri had found a significant other who was a healer and dabbled a bit in magic as well who travelled with her. Yennefer was happy that Ciri had someone to not only take care of her heart, but also of the wounds she sustained in battles. They were a great pair, and Yennefer liked to think she had two daughters now. 

Dabbing perfume behind her ears, she decided she was ready for bed. It was a habit hard to break. Even if there was rarely anyone gracing her bed long enough to stay the night, the light smell of the perfume felt like a part of her now.  It reminded her of how it had made her more confident back in the day. She didn’t need the boost now, but she wanted to be reminded of how far she’d come since then.

A loud knock sounded and she tightened the sash of her silk dressing gown before she opened her bedroom door.

“Lady Yennefer!?” came the distraught voice of the bulky middle-aged man.

“What happened, Viesek?” she asked, concerned, as the man taking care of her livestock never disturbed her without a good reason.

“A man collapsed on the road leading to your castle. I tried waking ‘im up the normal way; with a slap in the face and a shake, but he wouldn’t budge.”

“Is he drunk?” she sighed, boredom creeping into her tone.

“I- I don’t think so. Might be. But he don’ look well, Lady Yennefer,” he said with worry. “We tried haulin’ him to the side, my brother and me, but he is awfully heavy in his armour.” The man gesticulated wildly, as if describing what armour was. 

“Armour?” she asked, her interest piqued as soldiers rarely visited anymore, especially alone. 

“We didn’t see a coat of arms, it’s a black armor. With, um, leather and studs more than what a knight would wear.”

“Black armour, huh?” She took a deep breath, straightening her back as tiny pinpricks of unease broke on her nape. “Can you remember the colour of his hair?”

“Under the mud, it looked silver, but he didn’t strike me as an old fellow-”

She was out the door before Viesek managed to finish his sentence. In her night sandals, she ran down the corridor. 

“Lady Yennefer? Wait!” His yell of concern echoed through the stone halls.

“Tell me, where exactly did you find him?” she demanded, never slowing her pace.

“Uh, by- by- by the gate, just in front of it,” he stammered nervously, following Yennefer with a confused and scared expression on his face.

With a round motion of her hand, Yennefer opened a portal and ran through it, her feet landing on the gravel in front of her palace a second later. Fierce w ind blew her freshly-brushed hair, but she didn’t care as she neared the seemingly lifeless figure.

It was him. Bloodied and unconscious, he lay on his back. She expected a flood of bad memories to hit her. Instead, a wave of fondness came over her as she knelt on the ground. She still loved him, not with the fiery lust she’d used to, but with affection of a former lover and a friend. 

With gentle touch, she brushed strands of dirty hair off his face, while the faraway moan of the wooden structure of the stables pierced the night . He was still beautiful in his roughness. The new, small scars and deeper crow’s feet only added to his appeal. 

“Geralt?” she said softly. “Wake up.” She shook his shoulders, then realised there was no use. He looked malnourished and dehydrated. 

She stood up, and with hands on her hips pondered how to transport the gigantic oaf. She refused to wake up more of her employees in the middle of the night to drag him all the way to the castle. Having little choice, she drew a portal on the ground. Maybe him being unconscious was for the better, as he wasn’t a fan of portal travel. 

Just then Viesek finally caught up, running through the castle and its grounds to the gate she was on the other side of. 

“Can you help me flip him to the portal?” she asked, already trying to push the big bulk of a man onto his side.

“Of course, Lady Yennefer!” Viesek panted, still out of breath from the run. 

They heaved Geralt to the side and then on his front, where he went through the portal to flop on the wooden floor of Yennefer’s infirmary. 

“Thank you, that will be all,” she smiled, then hopped through the circle herself, careful not to land on her guest. 

Geralt lay unconscious on his side, so she turned him around to inspect his face. She took in his battered appearance, but there was no indication of grave wounds or external bleeding. It would be better if he just told her himself what had happened.

She walked around her infirmary, equipped with instruments and tools whose cold steel glistened in the soft light of the fireplace she had just lit with a flick of her wrist. The familiar smell of iodine, alcohol, and magical elixirs filled her nose. Most of the time, she used simple spells instead of using actual anesthetics or disinfectants, but she kept all manner of medicines handy just in case. 

She could easily stop hemorrhages with her magic, and had to call for a surgeon only when the person who came with a seemingly small illness turned out to be seriously ill. She prided herself in helping women who had problems either conceiving or who were trying to prevent an unwanted pregnancy, often in need of secrecy from their husbands. Gone were her days of prancing around courtrooms with kings. Even though she still was invited to most notable events in many big cities, she attended just the ones she deemed worthy of her time and attention. 

It was a quiet life she led, and one she was finally proud of. 

Tracing a finger through the myriad of vials and bottles on the shelf of her apothecary, she found what she needed. 

Opening the vial near Geralt’s nose, she waited for him to inhale its contents. A regular human would sit up immediately, but Geralt just fluttered his eyelids, then closed his eyes again. His breathing pattern changed so he was definitely awake. Crouching so close to him, she was painfully aware of the smell of sweat, poorly dried clothing, and too much alcohol that wafted off of the man.

“Lilac and gooseberries,” he mumbled, inhaling deeply. “Yennefer?” his eyes snapped open, and a concerning view of yellow irises surrounded by red appeared. Bloodshot eyes, scratches, bruises...Geralt looked like someone had tried to kill him and nearly succeeded. Judging by the stench of him, that someone might have been Geralt himself...

She waved a hand to make the hearth in the corner burn even hotter. A big project had just fallen onto her lap, she could feel it. Determination filled her as she stood up and crossed her arms in the universal stance of disapproval. 

“Will you explain yourself, Geralt of Rivia?” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments make my day! :)  
> This fic can be read as a standalone, but it's a rough continuation of ["Beyond the Fog"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24093367)  
> where Geralt visits Jaskier in his retirement.
> 
> If you like my writing, consider subscribing to me: [CarmillaCarmine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarmillaCarmine/pseuds/CarmillaCarmine)  
> If you'd like to get notified of my works for the Witcher fandom only, subscribe to ["Ballads of a Witcher and a Bard"](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1710100) series where I'll be adding all my future Geraskier works.  
> >  
> If you want to follow me or say hi on social media, you can find me here:  
> [my Geraskier Twitter](https://twitter.com/CarmillaCarm6)  
> [my Geraskier Tumblr](https://carmillacarmine.tumblr.com/tagged/myfic)  
> [my Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/CarmillaCarmine)  
> 


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